The Woes Of a Homicidal Maniac
by stuff-is-good
Summary: (When I say humor, it may not be thaaat funny!) Typical JohnnyDevi fic - will she give him another chance? Will he screw up again? (Disclaimer: nothing owned by me! All belongs to the loverly Jhonen Vasquez and Slave Labour I think)
1. Default Chapter

It was a typical Saturday night, and Johnny found himself in much his usual state - resigned to the lamentable routine of solitude he had taken up since his demoralising failure at maintaining a romance interest (or at least one that wouldn't (literally) die by his hand). 

            He had unsuccessfully attempted on numerous occasions to break through the monotony in various ways: he'd taken out his paints again for the first time in several months and waited longingly for inspiration to come to him; he'd persisted to finally renovate the tunnel leading to Squee's cellar enabling him to make several perilous midnight excursions to the unfortunate toddler's bedroom, believing himself to be bringing joy into the life of the mistreated child by telling him overly detailed bedtime stories (some autobiographical) - this gave him a sense of self-worth, and for a time he believed himself to be compensating for the trail death and destruction he had left in his wake; He'd marched into the Newsagents down the street where the notorious local paedophile worked, dragged him out onto the steps and impaled him on the painfully jagged, rusty railings whilst all the while singing Cindy Lauper's "girl's just wanna have fun".

            And yet his attempts had remained fruitless; he'd simply found himself slipping back into his usual routine of random homicide, cherry flavoured brainfreezies, repetitive Happy Noodle Boy comics and senseless journal entries with appalling grammar.

            His writing had become darker and yet lacking in direction or any sort of relevance as he began drawing inspiration from his grotesque surroundings: the peeling wall paper on the stained walls; the grimy windows which were scarcely transparent anymore; the loose nails in the dirt encrusted floorboards which scraped the souls of his feet drawing blood whenever he dared to venture through the house barefoot (though this was highly infrequent, as you'll have undoubtedly noticed he rarely appears to change his clothes from the waist downwards...).

            He thought to himself as he gnawed on the end of his pen, _I need to get out of here. I need a reason to leave the house._ He knew there was only one reason he would ever be persuaded by - and he knew it could have disastrous consequences.

            "She broke your heart, didn't she. I can feel it," came the sneering voice of Mr. Eff.

            "Fuck you, Eff. Just shut up," retorted Johnny, though his voice didn't match the confidence of his remark, it shook slightly as he fought back the tears.

            Psycho Dough Boy mused, "He has a point, Nny. You know, if the pain's too much..."

            "I will _not kill myself! I've been both ways and neither heaven nor hell will provide me with any answers. It won't stop the torment."_

            "See what this bitch has done to you! Aw, Nny, I hate to see you this way. That bitch must be dealt with."

            "_No_! I can't - won't. It wouldn't make things any better. At least this way I can see her sometimes."

            "So you've digressed to mere stalking? You pathetic excuse for a human being!"

            "QUIET! Shut _up, just stop." Johnny could feel his eyes burning with tears as he struggled not to allow them to fall down his face._

Devi had recently mustered the courage to venture out into the open again, owing to the numerous threats made towards her by her boss should she fail to return to work again. And it was this reason alone that had resulted in her current situation; stood behind the counter of _Dragon Books_ trying desperately to refrain from aggression as an old lady attempted to haggle with her over the price of a trashy romance novel:

            "I'm _sorry, M'am, but it's not up to me to decide the prices of these things - it says so on the back, and I'm not in charge around here, so either pay the extra fifteen cents or check it out of the library."_

            "_Really_ young lady! I'm going to be talking with the manager about your manners!"

            Devi reverted back to her usual monotone which she had grown accustomed to using at work, "_Next!"_

            The old woman, defeated, stormed off.

            As Devi's gaze remained downward, a hoarse voice spoke, "If she's bothering you, I can disembowel her... if you like..."

            Recognising the voice in a moment of horrifying realisation, Devi's gaze shot upwards to meet the eyes of the reason she had isolated herself for so long. "N-n-nny..."

            Johnny managed a faint smile, "I, er... wanted to speak to you in person... things don't appear to be going so well..."

            "You tried to fuckin' kill me, you wanker!"

            "I figured that may have put you off a bit... I guess I could have thought up more romantic ways for us to spend our time together."

            Devi simply stared, her eyes bore into his. She hesitated, opened her mouth as though about to speak, then thought the better of it: _don't make him angry, who knows what he's hiding in that trench coat_.

            Johnny's gaze darted downwards, he was afraid to ask her his next question - of the rejection he may have to face. He slowly raised his head (it was very heavy and he has a really skinny neck). "I- I'd like another chance,"

            Devi looked sceptical,

            "-to prove myself. I really like you, Devi. You're the only person I've met who I feel I connect with." He spoke rapidly. Devi was unsure whether this was out of embarrassment at his own sincerity or the result of one too many sugar-infested brainfreezies. "Do you think you could forget about that whole... knife... incident?"

            Devi's eyes connected with Johnny's and she held his gaze for several seconds before answering, "O Johnny..." she sighed, "No. Not really."

[A.N. O come _on - would you?]_

Outside, the house seemed desolate and an eerie silence prevailed. Inside, the screams of desperation echoed through the lower levels of the house. The walls were smeared with grime, dried blood, and the occasional splatter of intestines and cartilage.

            "DEAR _GOD! HAVE MERCY AND LET ME DIE!"_

            "That fat-ass bastard won't answer you. Don't waste your cries of anguish on him."

            "I'm _sorry! I shouldn't have made those comments about your boots!" The young girl attempted a half-arsed apology, almost sounding sincere. "They-they're actually quite cool once you get used to them!" she added hastily._

            "O but it's too late now. You were so quick to judge me by my appearance. And I am in no mood for mercy."

            "I'm sorry! O _God! I can't bear it! I was just trying to fit in with those cool guys. I wanted them to like me!"_

            "Well you are a fool, my dear. Those "cool" guys are now sprawled across the side-walk [see what I did there? Cause he's American, didn't say pavement! Yay me!] with their intestines on display. I'm sure you've failed to impress them."

            The girl, who looked barely sixteen, was held firmly against the wall by chains - which fastened around her wrists so that her arms were raised above her head - and shackles around her ankles. Her mascara (which she had applied lavishly) had run down her face where she had cried. Our hero had repeatedly administered electrical shocks to her, at an exceedingly (though not quite deadly) high voltage, and slashed at her stomach with numerous oddly shaped knives.

            "IT'S PEOPLE LIKE _YOU WHO'VE BROUGHT IT TO THIS!" He roared, "You're constantly pushing me to the edge! You made me what I am today! And now Devi won't come anywhere near me!"_

            "H-who? Is, is that your girlfriend?"

            "She _would be. If I hadn't attacked her. I was confused. For the first time, I experienced a feeling which wasn't contempt, or irritation - it was __love. So un-used to this sort of bliss was I, that I momentarily lost control, I became horribly confused and reacted in the only way you people had taught me: violently. And now I've lost her. She despises me. And you imbeciles are going to pay," he edged towards her menacingly, knife posed ready to strike her, "each and every one of you."_

            Her eyes widened in terror; her breathing became unsteady. Instinct told her to scream; to cry out in vain - however, her voice was choked by the horror she faced. Johnny reached out a spider-like hand and clasped a chunk of her once-blonde-now-greasy hair between his fingers. He jerked her head backwards and her skull thumped against the wall. Through her terror she was unable to feel the pain of her skull cracking. She was, however, fully aware of the blood encrusted silver blade he brought to her exposed neck. In one swift movement he ran it across her flesh. As her dull grey eyes became glazed over, blood spurted out at high pressure, soaking his t-shirt and face, but not concealing the psychotic grin now playing across it.

_Dear Die-ary,_

_Rid the world of another infamous cheerleader today. I thought it would help suppress the feelings of rejection and loneliness. It didn't. I feel so empty. I walked around the streets aimlessly for some time afterwards. I felt like I was surrounded by a thick fog, blurring my vision and muffling any sounds that might break the silence which perused me. Nobody cares. I wasn't even approached by any jerks (though perhaps I would've been had I bothered to wipe the blood stains from my clothes). _

_            It's so lonely on the outside. All I can think of is Devi, and how she's just out of my reach._


	2. Walking home

Devi strode home at as fast a pace as she could manage, the encounter a few days earlier with Johnny had put her on her guard once again, but she couldn't afford to take any more days off work. She glanced around her nervously. On the opposite side of the road a figure turned out of an alleyway and walked towards her. She froze instantly. It was too dark to make out any of his facial features, but he was wearing a trench coat and what looked like New Rocks [do they have those in America?]. As he approached her, a nearby street light finally lit up his face to reveal a bearded man in his late thirties. Devi breathed a sigh of relief.

            "Excuse me, Miss. Do you know which direction I should be headed in for the Taco Smell?"

            Devi smiled, "Just up the street and round that corner there, keep going and you're there."

            "Thanks."

            Devi carried on, almost laughing at herself for being so paranoid. She loosened up a little after discovering the lack of threat posed to her by the deserted streets. It was unlucky though that she chose this moment to let her guard down, because this was when a spindly figure chose to step around the corner. His silhouette proved to be rather a strange shape; his skinny legs became suddenly wider below the knee where his boots began; he walked with a slight slouch so that he appeared shorter than he should have; his hair (shaved at the bottom) had been twisted into jagged spikes using an excess of gel and stood stiffly atop his head; as he stalked forwards, his gloved hands swiped at the air while his arms moved forwards and backwards almost mechanically.

            Devi was determined not to let her fear and paranoia get the better of her - she would walk on as normal and make every attempt to ignore the dark stranger. And so she carried on in her intended direction: straight towards the possible danger, though she made a point of averting her gaze downwards. As he brushed past her she suddenly felt a cold hand press against her upper arm and coil it's emaciated fingers around her. She looked up into the eyes of her would-be killer.

            Johnny raised a blunt object above his head, the nature of which she couldn't make out, he brought it swiftly down to Devi, striking her on the back of the head and rendering her unconscious. Devi did not remember being carried in the arms of her assaulter back to his house of horrors.

[A.N. "House of horrors", heh, you can tell I was stuck for wording there...]


	3. trapped

[A.N Thanks muchly to those two beautiful people who reviewed this! I'll come up with some lame explanation about the doughboys later, to be honest, it never occurred to me that they'd need a reason to be back *smacks own forehead*]

Johnny stood over Devi's unconscious body which he had laid down on his couch - he had specially cleaned the blood stains off of it the previous morning owing to his imminent plans to kidnap Devi. She was quite a sight: her pale skin almost glowed through the dullness surrounding her; her fuchsia hair was tangled, though Johnny had carefully swept it back to reveal her face; she remained completely still aside from the small movements she made to show she was still breathing. She was completely at peace; unaware of the death and decay which lay beneath the floorboards of her present location…

Devi awoke and immediately knew she wasn't in her bed; even before opening her eyes she detected the strange musky smell that hung in the air - a combination of blood, sweat and disinfectant. She delayed opening her eyes for as long as possible, not looking forward to what she might see. She slowly lifted her eyelids and it took her several seconds to focus. 

Moving her arms, she suddenly realised they were tied. This alerted her and she came to her senses quickly, panicking. She now observed the highly inconvenient situation she was in: she was lying on a couch with her hands tightly bound together by a length thick nylon cord; the room around her was vaguely recognisable – this was Johnny's lounge. She noted that all of her clothes were intact, which relieved her to a great extent (though she wouldn't have expected any less form Johnny) but she had the distinct impression on reaching for her head, which felt slightly sore, that he had brushed her hair. Briefly she contemplated what else he might have done while she was unconscious, but she wouldn't worry about that now. 

She appeared to be completely alone (then again, this was Johnny; she wouldn't put it past him to be watching her form somewhere) and in spite of the cord tying her hands, it seemed all too easy for her to escape - there must be some sort of catch: presently, it walked through the far door:

"Devi… you're awake."

"O come off it, don't act so surprised to see me. And I know you've been watching me."

He grinned in reply, she knew him so well… "Now if I were in such a compromising situation as you at present, I'd watch how I spoke to my captor…"

Realising that he was correct, Devi bit down on her lip. _How many others? Did they all end up dead?_

"Have a good sleep?"

Devi began to articulate the phrase _fuck you_, but thought the better of it, "what do you think? And it wasn't a sleep anyway, was it?"

Johnny smiled mildly at her. He could sense her frustration.

"May I ask why my hands are tied?"

"I'd have thought that would have been obvious."

"The door was open though, I could have easily gotten away."

"I thought you said I was watching you. You shouldn't doubt your own intelligence, Devi."

"Soooo…" she began, uncertainly, "what _exactly_ do you want with me?" She eyed him nervously, "you're not going to kill me, are you?"

Johnny remained silent, his eyes were expressionless but there was evidence of a  smile playing at the corners of his mouth; Devi was unsure of how exactly to perceive this: was he trying to aggravate her? Or perhaps he was still contemplating… 

            "Are you going to answer me?"

            Silence.

"Damn it, Nny!"

"I'm sorry, you're just so beautiful. You are, Devi."

Devi furrowed her eyebrows, her mouth was hung open slightly, "What the- is that all you have to say to me? Did you _kidnap_ me just to tell me that?" 

"I "kidnapped" you because I knew you'd never hear me out were it that you free not to."

"Fine. _Great_. [she raised her eyebrows and rolled her eyes] Talk to me. I'll listen, then can I please go?" She was sounding irritable by now.

"Perhaps. I'm unsure at the moment. I _will_ give you a promise though, that while you are here, if you treat me fairly and listen to what I have to say, I shalln't harm you. It would pain me to harm you, Devi."

"O come off it, Nny! You attacked me with a knife! You didn't look like you were in too much _pain_ then. Treating you fairly would be to turn you in to the police."

"But you've already tried that, haven't you, my dear? And they'll never listen."

"Wh- _what_? Have you been _watching_ me?"

"I'd rather not answer that at present as I'm kinda trying to persuade you of my good nature, so it would be just plain foolish to incriminate myself any further – plus I'm the one with the knife, so I call the shots."

"Fair enough…"

"Look, I know I wasn't the best… date… and I probably don't _deserve_ another chance, I'll give you that… but-" mid-sentence he reached a hand into one of the inner pockets of his trench coat, when he removed it, he was brandishing a butcher knife – "-what choice do you really have? Come on, you might like me once you get past this area of my personality."

"How long do I have to stay here?" Devi asked sheepishly.

"Until I grow on you… or until it becomes jaw-droppingly obvious that it isn't going to work…"

"Then?"

Johnny smiled and blinked a few times before answering, "you're free to go. Providing you don't attempt to contact the police. Believe me I'll know, and remember what good it did you last time anyway."

"OK. I can't remain in these clothes forever though."

"I'll collect some of you things for you from your apartment… and I'm sure there's a washing machine around here _somewhere_…"

"Thanks," Devi mumbled, feeling slightly demoralised at the prospect of living alone with a homicidal maniac. It figures.

[A.N. You'll be pleased to know I've finally decided on an actual plot for this story! (yeah I know, kinda a vital part really, isn't it…) And don't worry, I'm fully aware of different Johnny is acting around Devi in comparison to the way he talks about her when he's on his own, it'll all be explained with my diabolical plot!]


	4. venture into the depths

[A.N. Please forgive the shortness of all my chapters! I find it so hard to juggle school work, art work and stories! Thanks for reviewing!] 

Devi sat motionless on the floor, slumped against the wall in Johnny's lounge. She hadn't yet managed to persuade Johnny to untie her hands and the rope was beginning to rub against her wrists, stinging her skin and causing her bones to ache. Her legs were sprawled out in front of her at odd angles as she stared expressionlessly into space, not focusing on the scene before her. Ironically, she had had no success in finding a knife, or any sharp implements for that matter throughout any of the accessible rooms in the house, try as she might. She supposed Johnny must have purposely hidden all of them, aside from the one he now carried with him.

            She felt completely segregated from the rest of civilization; she had no idea of the current time, or how long it had been since she'd gotten here. After what could have been several minutes, yet felt like several hours, she was brought to her senses by a muffled sound. She raised her head and kept her ears alert. After much speculation, she discovered that it was coming from somewhere below her. She gradually rose to her feet, maintaining a sense of caution, and edged out of the door. She found herself in a hallway with various doors arranged along the walls, one at the end stood ajar. With a horrible sense of foreboding, she made towards it, reached slowly for the handle and stepped through.

            She was greeted with a rather pungent smell, the nature of which she couldn't quite determine; it seemed as though the air around her was decaying, as well as everything it touched. She groped around for a light switch laboriously, owing to the restriction the rope had on her hands, yet was unsuccessful. She opened the door widely so that she could see a good few feet in front of her. She placed her hands against one of the walls, grimacing at the sight of the filth that enveloped them. She gradually descended the steps, arms outstretched though bound together, fingers feeling along the wall in order to steady herself. It was a somewhat excruciating task as her lack of arm movement forced her to creep slowly down the stairs, and she had to poke her feet around to be sure of the edges of each one.

            When she was certain she had reached the bottom of the stairs, she stopped to examine her surroundings. She squinted, eyes not yet fully adjusted to the dim light. She could make out a fairly large room, the other side of which was a large doorway. The walls she had felt her way along had been cold to the point of causing the palms of her hands to ache terribly on top of the discomfort she already felt, so she supposed they were make out of stone, or perhaps brick. Cautiously, she paced the length of the room and peered through the doorway.

            The light provided by the open door didn't stretch far enough for her to see anything beyond here. She remained still for several minutes, deliberating over whether to venture further into the depths of the basement. A faint rustling stirred her senses. She strained her eyes. Nothing, just blackness. 

She was startled by a sudden moaning sound from amidst the darkness. By now her heart was pounding, threatening to break through her ribcage. Trying desperately to silence the heavy sound of her own breathing, Devi crept forward through the doorway. Against all sense, she called out, "Hello?" Though her voice only managed a faint whisper.

"Is somebody there? _Please_." Came a croaky reply.

"Y-yes… who _is_ that?"

"He locked me down here! Please, it hurts so bad!" The voice sounded hysterical, it was difficult to tell whether it was male or female.

"Who? Johnny?"

"I don't know, I don't know! He's crazy! Please get me out of here! I can't bear the pain any longer!"

"I can't see? Where are you?"

"I'm over the opposite side of the room to you. Please I can't move. O god, I don't know why I'm still alive…" Devi could hear that the person's voice was sounding choked and hoarse.

"Hang on, hang on, I-"

_Creak_

"Was that you? Don't go, please!"

Panic-stricken, Devi lowered her voice to a frantic whisper, "No! I don't know! O God, I think someone's coming!"

"NO! Not him! No! I can't bear anything more! If he puts anymore hooks under my skin… Please get me out of here!"

"Sssh, I can't help you if he finds me.."

Devi could hear the victim's quiet sobs of despair. She was unsure if she could hear footsteps coming towards her from behind. She swiveled round, eyes still unable to function. Again she attempted to smoother the sound of her breathing by this time cupping her hands around her mouth.

She was taken by surprise from behind, an arm coiled itself around her waist and as she lowered her own arms to throw it off, another enclosed itself around her neck, forcing her chin upwards, and she felt a slight sting as a blade was held steadily to her throat.

"Don't move."

She knew it was him.

"I'd hate to inadvertently slit that pretty throat of yours."

"Who is this you've kept down here?"

"That does not concern you."

"Why are you doing this?"

"He must learn. The world is better off without him."

"What have you _done_ to him? You're sick!" She winced as his fingers dug into a point just off center from her stomach.

"It would only distress you, now I want you to move slowly backwards and follow my lead back up the stairs. I'd strongly advise you not to loose your footing."


	5. painting

[A.N. Ok, so I have a plot, but I'm still unsure as to how this story's going to end, so I'm juggling several possibilities (I may end up doing one of those ones with several possible endings, but that just sounds sooo Goosebumps!). Um, I was also unsure of the genre really, but it's sounding kinda like an angst story now, but please warn me if it starts to sound too "Linkin Park", cause then I'd have to shoot myself. Thankees for reviewing everyone! (Is it _really_ kinky?! I'd never thought of that!)]

Johnny carefully opened the door leading out of the basement. He cautiously guided her through the door, preventing her from making any false moves. He had to push the weight of his body against the door to open it, as his hands were occupied: currently, one was wrapped delicately around Devi's waist to steady her as she was unable to do this for herself, while the other pressed the knife blade threateningly against her throat. He pulled the door shut behind them.

            "You really think this is going to win me back?"

            "Honestly? No."

            "Then why are you doing this?"

            "Because I'm past considering all other options."

His grip on her loosened as he lowered the knife from her neck. Just then he seized her arm and jerked it towards his other hand which wielded the knife. For a split second the thought passed through Devi's mind that he was going to slice her arm. However, he merely severed the bonds tying her wrists.

"Thanks," she mumbled apologetically – she wasn't sure why she should feel guilty for thinking such a thing, considering her current situation, but the feeling remained nonetheless.

"You're things are in the front room"

[A.N. Sorry! I have absolutely no idea what they say in America, so I'm alternating between every term I can think of for lounge!]

            Devi, fully appreciative of her new found arm movement, slumped into the sitting room to collect her possessions that Johnny had salvaged. Upon entering, she was amazed to find her eyes fixating upon not solely clothes (and a wide variety at that), but everything she could imagine herself desiring within a short period of time – including art materials and an unfinished painting she'd been working on.

            "Looks like you emptied my apartment," she joked, lightening up a great deal.

            Johnny blushed slightly, though she couldn't see, "Well I didn't want you to run out of stuff to live comfortably with… I don't possess a lot of… feminine stuff… and I figured you'd be needing some art supplies – you said you'd go insane if you couldn't paint."

            Devi was taken back by this, "Jesus, you actually listen to what I say?"

            "Every word."

            "Most don't…"

It was evident to Johnny that Devi was relieved to a great extent when he showed her to her room. He'd taken it upon himself earlier to renovate a single room in the house for Devi – that was, scrub any blood splatters of the walls, remove any small animals (living or dead) from it and buy some clean sheets for a bed. It had taken them two trips to carry all of Devi's possessions into the bedroom. When Johnny had carefully propped the unfinished painting against the wall, he slumped down on the bed, Devi stood beside him, uncertainly.

            "Are you hungry?"

   "Not especially."

"Ok. If you get hungry, tell me. I don't usually cook meals, I just eat when I feel like it."

"Sure. Thanks."

"Do you want me to go? You could carry on with your painting if you want to."

"Yeah, that'd be good."

Johnny rose to his feet and traipsed out of the room without protest.

Devi sighed and walked over to her painting. She was unsure now whether she could continue: her mood had altered so drastically since she's started this painting, she just couldn't express what she'd been trying to express beforehand. She hesitated, then resolved to at least make an attempt – after all, she'd sent Johnny away to do this, and he might be irritated should he find out that she hadn't made any progress (would he check?). She laid it down on the grimy floor. Grabbing a couple of tubes of paint, she squeezed blobs of acrylic paint onto her mixing palette. Taking hold of a medium-sized brush, she began systematically stroking layers of red paint on the canvas [A.N. she can use acrylic on canvas if she wants!], pausing to wash out the paintbrush and blend in some black. 

She worked instinctively, choosing without delay where lines of different colours should blend into one another and where they should meet each other at sharp contrasts. Without realizing, she became absorbed in her work, altering the mood of the painting to reflect her own current emotions. She was completely oblivious to Johnny's presence as he gazed down at her, enthralled, standing in the door frame.

Johnny was at a loss of what to do; he desperately wanted to express to her how amazing he thought it was – how amazing _she_ was, yet he felt compelled to hold his tongue – he didn't want to bring her out of her content state of mind and back to the horrifying reality she was trapped in. He stared a little longer, transfixed, then turned and walked off wordlessly.

He automatically found his way to his own (equivalent of a) bedroom. He sat cross-legged in the corner pondering to himself.

The harsh voice of Mr. Eff sounded out, "Penny for your thoughts?"

[A.N. I know he'd never say that, but don't you just love that phrase!]

            "I know you can hear them anyway."

            "It won't work. She'll never have you. Might as well kill her and save yourself the rejection."

"Shut up, Eff."

"It's the most foolish plan you've concocted yet. You think locking her away and isolating her is going to drive her insane to the point of falling for someone like you?"

"Fuck you. What do you know?"

"I know that's your plan. It was working well at first. With you completely ignoring her resistance and confusing her. Yet now I see your weakness. You make me sick."

"So _what_? Maybe I can feel that way towards someone! It's not necessarily such a bad thing."

"Johnny, Johnny. Caught up in such emotions. I wouldn't be surprised now if you were to give in to your own lust, just the thing you've been condemning all these years."

"FUCK YOU! I AM _NOT_ LIKE THEM! I'm different."

"The only difference between you and them is your blood thirst. That fucking wall of yours. You'll never win."

Devi was brought out of her trance by the distant earth-shattering screams from several doors down the hall. All she could make out were cries of anguish merged together with the clattering of objects being smashed against walls and floorboards being torn up. Unsure what to do, she remained still for a time, until the racket subsided. She was uncertain of whether or not it would be wise for her to pursue the noise a seek out the cause of the commotion, or to lay low in the event that Johnny's temper should fixate itself upon any living creature that should venture within his reach. Sighing wearily at her own unavoidable foolishness and curiosity, she got to her feet and strode off decisively down the hall.


	6. the slurpy of doom

Devi approached the door leading to the source of the commotion with anticipation. She paused a few paces away, checking for any sounds which might give her excuse to flee – which was what sense told her to do. She gently pushed the door open, peering around its edge to set eyes upon the scene it shielded.

            The room looked as though it had been ransacked by vandals or thieves; several unrecognisable objects had been flung at the walls and lay shattered in pieces on the outskirts of the room; numerous floorboards were in splintered states where they had been ripped upwards; the residues of wallpaper, which had originally been applied carelessly, now bore rips resembling fingernail marks where the walls had been clawed frantically. In the far corner of the room lay a styrofoam figure which was suspended a couple of inches from the floor by a dagger which nailed it to the wall.

            In the centre of the chaos sat the almost stick-lick figure of Johnny, breathing deeply through gritted teeth whilst looking poised as though dormant to strike again. He sat in the pose that had become custom for him now; legs drawn up against his chest with his chin resting on his knees, arms cradling his shins. His eyes were distant and glazed over; his shirt was ripped slightly at the shoulder; his electric-blue tinted hair ruffled even with the vast amount of gel he'd previously applied to it.

[A.N. Would this be where all the girls start swooning?]

            Devi slowly approached him, meandering past any broken artefacts obstructing her path. She knelt down beside him.

            "Johnny?"

            No reply. His eyes didn't even focus.

            "Nny? What's going on?"

            He sighed lightly, yet didn't make any gestures towards being brought out of his state of comatose.

            "Nny… what happened?"

            She lifted her hand and placed it on his shoulder gently.

            His reaction was instantaneous; he jerked his shoulder back and leapt to his feet. Devi backed away slightly and their eyes met. He stood over her for a while, eyes boring into her as though noticing her for the first time.

            "What's going on, Johnny?" Devi asked, trying to disguise her fear.

            "I- erm… Sorry."

            "What?"

            Johnny's hand instinctively went to the back of his neck and his eyes averted, Devi could see this was something he didn't want to discuss with her. "I- well… I sure could go for a brainfreezy right about now, how about you?"

            Devi eyed him uncertainly, "um.. well sure, Ok."

            "Just don't try to escape. You're a smart girl, you know how foolish that would be."

            Devi nodded.

            Seizing Devi's wrist, her strode out of the door and down the hallway towards the front door.

After a brief walk, they reached the 24/7 down the street. Grasping Devi's hand tightly, as he had been since they left the house, Johnny pushed through the door. The shop assistant's head darted upwards from the comic he was currently reading. Johnny smiled, this shop got through assistants faster than any other he knew of; though it was largely due to his frequent visits.

            Johnny turned to Devi, "Anything you want in particular?"

            "Nah, I'm not too hungry."

            "Sure? If you want, we can grab some Chinese food after…"

Although Devi really didn't want to eat, she couldn't turn down this offer, "Well…"

Johnny ginned, "You know you wanna."

"Ok."

Johnny strode up to the counter, "Two brainfreezies, please. One cherry, and…" He turned to Devi, eyebrows raised.

"Um… yeah I think mine'll be cherry too, please." Johnny reached into his pocket and handed the assistant the correct change.

"Very well." The assistant, who didn't look much older than Johnny, grabbed two brainfreezy cups and put them under the machine. When he was done processing the gooey beverages from the machine, he thrust one at Johnny, barely paying him any attention, and smiled at Devi. "Here ya go, Miss," he said pleasantly, making to hand the drink to her, but keeping it slightly out of her reach. Devi leaned forward over the counter making to grab the sickly sugar concoction, and Johnny noticed his eyes dart to her chest area, which he had a convenient view of from where he was standing.

Unaware of what was going on, Devi clasped hold of the drink and brought it to her lips to take a sip. Just as she was doing so, the assistant, leaning over the counter feigned tripping over a non-existent object below the counter so that his elbow jerked forwards, knocking the beverage out of Devi's hand and soaking her top. 

"Shit!" Devi brought her hands away from herself to prevent any more slurpy spillage and surveyed the damage.

"O, Jesus! Look what I did! I'm so sorry, let me help you there," he persisted to swipe his hands across Devi's chest as though being helpful. Devi leapt backwards, looking vexed, "Get _off_ me! Idiot!"

Johnny stepped between the two of them threateningly, "What the hell do you think you're doing, asshole?!"

"Really, I'm sorry! It was an accident, I was just trying to help!"

"_Help my ass_!" He bellowed.

"Look, I'm real sorry, this has just been a terrible misunderstanding. Would you like to use the bathroom back here to clean up?"

"Yeah, I'm sure it's the least you could do." Replied Devi, coldly.

The assistant lifted up part of the counter surface to allow Devi to pass through. "It's just back there," he instructed, pointing.

Devi made to walk past him, he didn't move so that she had to slide between him and the edge of the counter, brushing up against him. Muttering curses to herself (aimed at him), she disappeared into the back rooms.

Johnny glared at him, "You dick, that was deliberate!"

The stranger merely sneered, "Don't tell me she's _your_ girlfriend. Guys like you don't score with chicks like that. I'd do her any day though…"

Whipping out a dagger from the inner pocket of his trench coat, Johnny darted forwards, leaping over the counter and landing one of his fists between the pervert's eyes.

"You make me _sick_! You think guys like you who are stuck serving me slurpies are any better than myself? Well the only thing you'll be getting any of tonight is this." He screamed, driving the blade of the knife through the assistant's abdomen. This was met with an ear-piercing scream from the victim. Johnny then proceeded to slash repeatedly at the guy's chest and face, until the floor around them became saturated with the blood now oozing from the many wounds inflicted.

When the damage was inflicted, Johnny was brought back to his senses. He stood up, alert and calm, brushed down his clothes and followed Devi's path through the door which stood ajar.

"Devi," he called. "Let's go out the back way, that shop assistant's a psycho, he attacked me as soon as you'd left!"

[A.N. Well, there wasn't really any point to this chapter, but I thought I needed some quick violence!]


	7. screws

The dull, hazy moonlight seeped through the blinds, illuminating the sharp features of Johnny's face. He looked to be etched out of stone, he hadn't moved in hours. Devi's head rested on his lap and he was unwilling to awaken her as she slept, without stirring, stomach down beside him. He was positioned at the end of the couch; one arm draped over the arm of the sofa, the other atop Devi's shoulder. A neglected clock on the wall read 6:50am through the cobwebs enclosing it – Johnny had seen no reason to change the battery.

            His eyes were fixated on Devi, they hadn't strayed from her face for a great deal of time. Realising the awkwardness that may arise should she awaken in such a position, Johnny attempted to dislodge himself from underneath Devi's head. Grasping the arm of the couch with both hands, he hoisted himself up, sliding his legs delicately from underneath the sleeping body. He leapt over the end of the sofa, taking care to do so in as quiet a manner as possible. Taking one last glance at the object of his affection, who slept on gracefully without a stir, Johnny crept out of the living room and down the hall.

            He knew exactly where he was heading for. The second door down was the only door he had ever had cause to lock, and he currently withdrew a small silver key from his pocket. Glancing cautiously over his shoulder (though he knew he was the only conscious being in the house) he slide the key into the lock and turned it, the door clicked open. Narrowly opening it, he side stepped into the room, closing the door behind him, as though unwilling to let the air inside escape.

            There was little, verging on no, light in this room. Johnny's eyes took some time to adjust, though even after several minutes, all he could make out were the jagged, imposing shadows of various artefacts littering the space around him. Many of these were canvases which stood on easels – paintings of his own from the time before his inspiration had run dry [A.N. Shit, those might be song lyrics I once heard, not sure where from though…]. There were numerous paintings displayed on them, all unfinished due to Johnny's impatienc, and fickle nature, towards his art; he could never concentrate on one thing for too long. 

Though they were unrecognisable in this light, Johnny knew exactly which painting lay where: the one nearest him bore a grim scene of an alleyway which harboured a dark silhouette at one end; the one standing on his far right showed the bleeding eyes of a demon; to his near left stood an intimidating portrait of a doll hanging by a noose; over by the opposite wall was the face of a fallen angel, horribly emaciated, this was possibly one of the most refined of his pieces. However, the painting he had returned to study was not one of his own. He had propped it up against the wall, just below his own fallen angel, after finding it in Devi's apartment.

He made his way towards it, utterly baffled by its sheer force of will in luring him in. He couldn't quite manage a reason as to why he was so drawn to it. It seemed no more fascinating than any of Devi's other works, yet he experienced a strange feeling when observing it; a strange prickling sensation which ran through his very nerves. It chilled him. Though the doll didn't appear to have any functioning eyes, he felt as though, if they were visible, they would follow his every movement relentlessly.

He hadn't a clue as to how long he stood before the painting, unable to tear his eyes away from it. He felt as though he was being judged. His thoughts were disrupted, however, by a soft moaning. It didn't seem to be originating from below the house, so Johnny thought this to be good cause to check on Devi. Sighing slightly he exited the room, leaving the doll to contemplate alone.

"mmng… nngh… the screws… mmmngh"

Johnny peered down at the writhing form which lay across his couch. She had been tossing and turning since he had returned, muttering nonsense about screws and red paint.

"The screws! That jar was empty… paint, paint… no red paint…"

Johnny cocked his head to the side and furrowed his eyebrows. He wondered whether or not he should wake her. Should he be listening to this? 

Of course you should. You're in charge around here, she's your property now. You can do what the hell you want.

Silently, Johnny knelt down beside her, listening intently.

"They're coming undone, mother. The screws… No! You're mine now, you fucking idiot!…"

She jerked her shoulders about and shook her head, as though fighting some tranquillising drug threatening to overpower her.

Johnny was now completely absorbed in her words, unable to move or even let another breath escape his lips – what she was murmuring sounded so familiar…

"We take care of you… you can do whatever you want… even kill."

Johnny felt something stir in the depths of his stomach. He scrunched his eyes shut to aid his concentration. The voice. It had spoken to him in the same way it had spoken to Devi. Yet he had thought it was his own subconscious. Though it seemed now as though it were some external force, of which he was not the sole victim.

His chain of thought was broken from a sigh emitted from Devi's mouth. "It's so pretty when you're looking down on it."

Shit. 

He knew that phrase. He'd relived the memory of it in his mind countless times, as he was sure she had done too, for varying reasons. She had said that to him moments before they decided to return to his house together. Somehow, her dream connected the two happenings of their date and the voices. Was it possible that this was where it had originated from – them meeting? No. He knew his problems had started long before that. _How about hers? Could **I** be responsible for the voices which plague her dreams? Is she like me? But maybe she fought it? Perhaps she could help me? No. Don't be foolish, she won't help you. But… that doll… so familiar… If she became like me, she'd feel the same as me. This would be past driving her to the brink of insanity…_

"You're thinking bad thoughts."

Johnny whipped his head around, startled by the sudden manifestation of a voice beside him. Realising where it was coming from, he rolled his eyes wearily. "Sod off D-boy."

"It's obvious that's not what you want. You want us now, don't you? We're helping you. You want us to invade the mind of your girlfriend here, just like we invaded yours."

Realising the delicateness of the situation he now found himself in, Johnny took several minutes to gather his thoughts, as Psycho Doughboy sneered at him. "Why would you help me? I thought you _wanted_ me to kill myself."

"It makes no difference to me _who's_ mind I destroy. She may be more persuadable than you."

"She isn't though. You know that, because otherwise you'd have been able to get to her. Just like you got to me."

"It's a rather complicated situation. Let's just say, with the help of an animate object this will be a _lot_ easier."

Johnny turned towards the now motionless figure in question. This would require a great deal of pre-meditation. She was the innocent party here. He'd brought her into his world against her will, kicking and screaming. The voices that plagued her mind were most likely his doing, and yet she had fought against them with every fibre of her being. Should he undo all of her efforts for his own selfish purposes? If the situation took a turn in his desired direction, it was clear that it would only be temporarily; sooner or later they would consume her completely. They only required one life, and with his help, that would be hers. Was it at all possible for him to outwit them? He was unwilling to overestimate himself to such an extent.

"It's what you want, Nny. Either way we'll get to you. We are unstoppable. You thought we were gone. You did. We never leave. We merely bide our time. It's you or her. Better her, and provide yourself with a short time of bliss together."

"What makes you so certain it's what I want?"

"You may be a monster. But you're still human. Deep down you want to be loved. You may not express love in such a tasteless. Lust infested way as the remainder of the population, but the temptation's still there."

There was a brief pause in which Nny speculated this. "What do I need to do?"

"Replace the screws and Sickness will be unleashed."

"The screws? That's what she talks about in her sleep. Those nightmares."

"Yes. Young Devi is well aware of the situation. More so than you I'd say."

"What is it she's aware of?"

"What we are. What we want. That's how she fought against Sickness. I say Sickness, but really that's just what she calls us. You know what _you_ call us."

"So… you're _not_ a part of me?"

            This query was met with a slight chuckle from the Styrofoam demon, "Me dear boy, we are _now_. Now that you've let us in."

"What will happen to her?"

"Exactly what we were hoping would happen to you."

A lengthy pause was his reply.

"I trust you've come to your senses. Be a dear a put the screws back in, mother."

[A.N. Ok, um.. Unknowner, that's really weird, because that weas exactly what I was planning to have happen… meh… I guess the whoe Johnny'Devi storyline's destined to be circular, unless it ends up being corny…]


	8. an unexpected reunion

[A.N. Ok, so in answer to one of the last reviews to be inflicted upon me (nah, I love 'em really!), my apologies if Johnny seems out of character. But I'd have thought it was obvious that the term "my dear" was meant in a patronising tone (perhaps I should have explained that more clearly). And I'd really rather not explain what a wanker is… is it not a universally used insult? Sorry if it's not, I just kind of assumed people who spoke English under the age of like 60 would know what it meant…]

Johnny remained froze in his current position for some time. He stood before the infamous Sickness portrait, screws in hand. On Psycho Doughboy's instructions he had retrieved them from Devi's backpack which he'd discovered lying unguarded in her room. Even after his deliberation, he remained unsure as to whether or not he could bring himself to destroy she who had so irritatingly invaded his emotions.

            _Things are great right now. Just perfect. I don't need her to like me – or even tolerate me for that matter. She has to stay here. Why should I spoil that?_

"To allow yourself to experience that something else. That special feeling – when someone else returns your own feelings." Psycho doughboy leered at him.

            "What the hell. Why should I care? If I don't do this, _I'll_ probably kill her anyway."

He took one of the tiny silver screws between his finger and thumb and thrust it through the canvas, twisting it round. There seemed to be no resistance from the painting. After he had secured the first, he repeated the process again. After a small amount of labour on his part, the deed was done. He waited expectantly as the sniggering behind him announced that he had succeeded in this minor task.

            There was an initial silence, which seemed all the longer for the suspense Johnny experienced. His eyes were entirely fixed on the painting which had absorbed his complete attention. He was unsure whether his eyes were playing tricks on him – was she moving? Perhaps a trick of the light? Were her legs twitching? Was he imagining it edging forward? He blinked.

            "Jeezus!" He leapt backwards. For it was suddenly a three dimensional object. Had it gradually got like that without him noticing? Or had he missed it as he blinked? It tumbled to the floor where it remained motionless. Johnny stood, poised and ready to retreat swiftly away if it should strike. _Strike? It's a friggin' doll!_

            _I am so much more than that._

            _Shit. _"Are you- you're talking to me?"

            _Why so surprised?_

            "I guess I thought only Devi would hear you. Like only I hear the doughboys."

            "We're the same being, my dear boy," replied D-boy from behind him.

            _This is going to be so much fun. Devi will be ours now._

            Johnny heard the sickening cackles of Psycho Doughboy, though he was unsure whether or not they reverberated around the walls of the room or merely of his mind. He _had_ to get out. Backing away towards the door he left the room to the scene of Psycho Doughboy stalking towards the fallen doll.

***Meanwhile… Somewhere in the depths of the**

**city's degraded community of subcultures…***

The deserted streets lay before her as she trudged through puddles, black boots producing faint splashing sounds and sending ripples through the still waters which saturated the roads. Tess was growing cold and increasingly aggravated as she swept through the murky waters, trench coat trailing behind her, giving her a bat-like appearance. She had to repeatedly remove her glasses and dry them systematically due to the excess of water building up on the lenses. She briefly mused to herself about the practicalities of some sort of miniature window wiper device to combat this frequently occurring problem. 

This guy was almost adequate competition for Dillon as far as assholes went. She knew it had been unwise to grow so inpatient with him and yell being as he was her ride home, but it was just common courtesy to stop, or at least slow down, when visually impaired people sporting guide dogs crossed the roads. Inevitably she found herself being urged to evacuate the vehicle. Still, he could have at least stopped it _completely_ before making his "request". 

This less than amiable event was proceeded by a somewhat lousy evening largely involving talk of how he (who went by the name of Corey: how quaint) was possibly the only _real_ Goth in the café (which incidentally was infested with the things); _he_ had been a Nine Inch Nails fan since a negligible time after they'd formed; _he_ bought his clothes from starving immigrants who owned small market stalls in the back alleys of the city – not those disgraceful _Mall stores_; _he'd_ been the _first_ to indulge in the idea of tinting his hair blue and spiking it.

Tess sighed heavily, rubbing her glasses fruitlessly with the damp sleeve of her coat and replacing them so that she could see where she was going. She pushed her short hair out of her eyes, running her fingers through it trying to separate the water-logged strands and meeting much resistance. Thank God she hadn't grown it long to fit in with Anne and the rest of her friends. She grew wary of those jerks constantly criticizing every detail of her appearance.

A sudden pressure applied to her right shoulder startled her. Tess whipped her head around and found herself face to face with a seemingly unfriendly face. The character in question bared a slight resemblance to Dillon; he possessed the same NIN t-shirt combined with a leather jacket; the same Mohawk hair style; the same permanent look of contempt plastered across his face. The main difference came from his age – he looked a good few years older than Dillon. 

Still clasping his hand to her shoulder the man asked, "Do you have the time?" His voice was hoarse as though he was unused to using it.

"Sure… um…" she made to push her sleeve back to display her watch but was prevented by a sudden blow to her head – she hadn't a clue, nor a care, what with.

Tess awoke to the most unpleasant feeling of her skin grinding against concrete, creating painful friction burns, as her assaulter dragged her along the pavement (Ok… _side walk_). She was vaguely aware of a dull throbbing pain at the back of her head, and a dumb grunting, courtesy of the attacker. She felt like crap. Her vision was obscured by either the surrounding darkness or her inability to adjust her eyes owing to the blow to her head – she hated that she was unsure which.

            She moaned out in pain.

            *Grunt*

            "Whadaya…"

            "Shut the FUCK up!" Was the answer, through gritted teeth.

            "Gerrof!" She squirmed with all the strength she could muster in her semi-conscious state.

            _Smack!_ He struck her across the face with the back of his hand. She fell limply to the floor, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

            _Fuck! Not **again**! I'll never escape **this one**._

            He yanked her to her feet roughly and slammed her against a nearby wall – she supposed they were now concealed in an alleyway. At this point, her eyes were firmly shut, unwilling to participate in the witnessing of whatever may lie ahead. Her ears – which possessed no such ability – registered various sounds of him fiddling around. _Please let that be him trying to find my wallet. TAKE IT! Take it and leave me!_

            She remained still, pinned against the wall, awaiting the upcoming horrors with mortal dread. Yet nothing was happening. The racket echoing around her was distorted as though she were submerged under water, and she couldn't make any sense from the abstract sounds which reached her ears. She could hear struggling and screaming, though nothing made its way towards her or even came into contact with her as the assaulter's grip on her loosened and fell away. As the pressure on her arms ceased, she slid helplessly down the wall and made contact with the ground with a thud, losing her battle to maintain consciousness.

* * * * *

Johnny stared expressionlessly at the grotesque form which lay at his feet, as its life force ebbed away. Blood was splattered up the brick walls which enclosed the three of them. He extended a steel-toed foot and poked at it to ensure it was completely dead. No moans escaped it's wretched lips. He next turned his attention to the female who was now slumped against the wall, unconscious – probably out of shock.

            He wasn't used to this "hero" thing, it was merely co-incidence: he had been experiencing a great deal of anxiety, and this shit-for-brains had bumped into him earlier in the street and uttered a derogatory comment under his breath. It just so happened that he'd followed him here to inflict the justice he felt necessary. _This girl was lucky,_ he thought as he gazed at her, not entirely interested… although… she did look slightly farmilli-

            "Fuck!" _It's **her**!_

            He deliberated for a while, then, unsure as to where exactly he was going with this, he slid his boney arms underneath her mid-section and lifted her upwards, shifting one arm downwards to support her legs. Already regretting it, he set off back to the house.


End file.
